The Sword Demon

The three of them have been searching for three days.

On this day, the three of them stopped outside a desolate mountain valley.

The wind whipped up sand and gravel, sweeping across the scorched earth and collapsed fences. Several wooden houses stood there, their frames reduced to ashes, emitting the last wisp of almost invisible smoke, and the air was filled with the unpleasant smell of burnt earth.

Nobody's here.

You can't even hear a bird chirping.

Frieren's emerald green eyes swept over the ruins.

Fern followed behind her, his pale purple gaze calmly sweeping over the ruins.

Lowell walked last, raising his hand to fan himself in front of him.

"I'm late," he said.

"Judging from the marks, it must have happened in the last day or two." Frieren walked to a half-collapsed roof frame and poked at the ashes on the ground with her toe.

"Did the Sword Demons do this?"

"Possible."

The three walked slowly through the ruins.

Apart from the howling of the wind through the hollow doors and windows, there was no other sound.

When they reached a small, relatively flat open space in the center of the village, Frieren stopped.

At the edge of the open space, near a dry well, there was a person.

He squatted there with his back to them.

She was completely wrapped in a dark black hooded robe, with only a few strands of light golden hair peeking out from the edge of the hood and hanging over her shoulders.

On the ground in front of the man were several small mounds of earth. The mounds were new, the most common kind of graves, each topped with a large stone. In a place like the Northern Plateau, having a grave was generally considered a sign of some dignity in the afterlife.

Hearing footsteps, the person slowly stood up and turned around.

The hood slipped down a little, revealing a face.

She was a woman. She had a beautiful face, fair skin, and long, soft, light golden hair. Her eyes were calm, even gentle, as she looked at them.

Her gaze lingered on Frieren's pointed ears for a moment, then swept over Lowell and Fern, before finally settling back on Frieren's face.

Who are you?

His voice was gentle, with a slight hoarseness from a long journey, but not harsh.

Frieren looked at her.

"We're just passing by, are you from this village?"

The woman gently shook her head.

"No." She raised her hand and pulled a thin silver chain from her collar. The pendant was a simple emblem with winged patterns, indicating the owner's status as a monk.

"I am a traveler. A monk."

"I was passing by and saw this scene... They had built a grave for them and were praying for them."

Her tone was calm, with a hint of pity.

"I've heard that the Sword Demons has destroyed many villages. Wherever it goes, it leaves no survivors... It's truly cruel."

Fern lowered her head, her eyelashes drooping.

"That's too much..."

The woman looked at them, interlaced her fingers, and closed her eyes.

"That's good. Could a few of you join me in praying for them?"

She asked, her gaze sweeping over the three people in turn.

Frieren blinked but didn't say anything.

Fern had raised her head again. She glanced at the small mounds of graves, then at the woman, and nodded slightly but firmly.

"Good."

She closed her eyes, clasped her hands together in front of her, interlaced her fingers, and rested them on her chin. Her long, pale purple hair was gently swayed by the wind.

The woman watched her pray quietly.

Then, her gaze shifted to Lowell and Frieren.

"The other two..."

Lowell and Frieren looked at each other.

Frieren tilted her head, her emerald eyes fixed on the woman, but she didn't speak.

Lowell scratched the back of his head, said nothing, and just looked at her.

The woman's expression remained unchanged, but her eyes quieted down. The hint of pity in her eyes slowly dried, like water stains.

Seemingly sensing something was wrong, Fern opened her eyes.

She looked at the woman, then at Frieren and Lowell.

"... What's wrong?"

The woman did not answer.

She slowly raised her hand, grasped the sash on the side of her black robe, and gently pulled it.

The heavy black robe slid open to both sides and fell silently to the ground, raising a little dust.

He was dressed in a close-fitting black outfit, with a leather belt around his waist and a sword hanging from it. The scabbard was plain and undecorated.

Even more striking are the two curved horns that slowly extend from either side of her forehead, signifying her Demons identity.

Fern's pupils contracted slightly.

"... So this is the Sword Demons?"

Her voice remained steady, but the ending notes were a little strained.

The woman— Sword Demons —slowly drew her sword from her waist. The blade was long and narrow, gleaming with the cold luster of iron.

"Looks like we've been exposed."

Her tone remained calm, even gentle. Only her eyes held a cold, predatory quality.

Frieren sighed.

"Fern, you're still too naive," Frieren said calmly. "Of course, it's fine for you to be naive when we're around, but if you're training alone... well, never mind, it's still early. In any case, you need to be more vigilant."

Fern pursed his lips.

"Yes, Lady Frieren." She summoned her staff and gripped it tightly. "Then, leave it to me."

Frieren glanced at her, then at the Demons standing opposite her, sword in hand.

"Um... this..." She seemed to hesitate.

"Go, go, go!" Lowell chimed in from the sidelines, arms crossed, looking like he was waiting to see a show. "Hey, you over there, make sure you spar properly. Don't hurt Fern, or you'll beat him to a pulp."

The Sword Demons tilted her head, her golden hair swaying slightly. She looked at Lowell, a clear hint of disdain flashing in her calm eyes.

"That's really strange."

She spoke, her voice remaining steady.

This is the first time someone has spoken to me like this.

She slightly raised the tip of her sword, aiming it at Lowell.

Who do you think you are?

"..."

Lowell pointed to himself.

"I am... tsk... never mind, fine, I'm nothing."

He turned to Fern and patted her on the shoulder.

"Fern, go... Tsk... You've already released a little bit of your aura. It seems a thousand years is too long. The new Demons these days don't recognize me at all. They can't even distinguish the aura of Demon King? Well, Discal's grave is overgrown with weeds by now. And this guy's probably a lone wolf."

However, the Sword Demons did not hear the second half of the sentence.

The moment the words fell--

Fern's staff, which had been hanging at his side, suddenly rose, and a point of concentrated white light shone from its tip.

"Whoosh--!"

Several magic circles instantly unfolded in front of her.

Immediately afterwards, a series of condensed Ordinary Attack Magic beams tore through the air and shot towards the Sword Demons! They were fast, straight, and almost without gaps.

The figure of the Sword Demons swayed slightly, as if the wind were blowing its shadow.

She sidestepped by a hair's breadth, the beam of light grazing the hem of her clothes before striking the charred earthen wall behind her, blasting up a small cloud of dust.

A second, a third... a dense barrage of beams followed one after another.

The Sword Demons's movements weren't so fast as to be imperceptible to the naked eye, but they were extremely precise. Every sidestep, step, and twist of her waist was completed just before the beam of light hit her body. The long, narrow sword seemed weightless in her hand, swinging naturally with her body's movements. Occasionally, she would lightly deflect the magical beam of light, which was particularly tricky to avoid and impossible to completely evade, sending up a few sparks of magical Spark.

And so, she charged forward, facing Fern's barrage of magical projectiles.

They are steadily closing the distance step by step.

Fern's pale purple eyes were fixed on her movements. He tapped his staff lightly, the rhythm of the magic beams he fired constantly changing, sometimes fast, sometimes slow, trying to disrupt her pace.

But the Sword Demons' steps did not falter in the slightest.

Ten meters.

Five meters.

Three meters.

The moment they reached a certain critical distance, the figure of the Sword Demons, which had been steadily advancing, suddenly blurred!

Speed exploded in an instant. One moment he was several meters away, the next, the cold blade was already slashing at Fern! The blade cut through the air, accompanied by a short, sharp screech.

Wow, so fast!

Fern's purple eyes widened suddenly.

She hadn't expected the other person to close in so quickly. But she still managed to react.

"Buzz!"

A semi-transparent, honeycomb-shaped Defensive Magic circle instantly unfolded in front of her! The light solidified, layer upon layer.

At the same time, magic surged beneath her feet, propelling her backward rapidly—

"Snap."

A soft sound.

It wasn't the sound of metal colliding.

It's the sound of some dense structure being cleanly and decisively torn apart.

The honeycomb-shaped Defensive Magic was like fragile paper before that seemingly ordinary sword, sliced through smoothly. The blade encountered almost no resistance and continued its downward strike!

A fine layer of cold sweat instantly seeped out on Fern's back.

But her retreat was already complete. The tip of the sword grazed the fabric of her dress that was billowing across her chest, leaving a small, broken thread.

They narrowly escaped.

The Sword Demons's brow seemed to twitch slightly. But she didn't pause; with a flick of her wrist, she swung her sword horizontally, bringing a heavy gust of wind, towards Fern's waist.

As Fern retreated, he found himself with nowhere to gain leverage. Without hesitation, she pointed her staff downwards.

"Bang!"

A muffled thud. It wasn't an attack, but rather a burst of magic beneath her feet, generating an upward recoil. Using this force, her body was lifted slightly to the side and upward, narrowly avoiding the sweeping sword. She immediately regained her balance and created distance again.

While still in mid-air, she raised her staff again.

"Whoosh--!"

A new wave of magic beams, denser and more cunningly angled, rained down upon her like a sudden downpour! This time, she no longer pursued absolute speed, but instead incorporated more predictive and maneuver-blocking shots.

The Sword Demons parried several beams of light aimed at her face with her sword, her feet lightly tapping the ground as if walking in the rain, weaving through the gaps in the magical beams. Occasionally, when she couldn't avoid a few, she would block them with the blade of her sword, making soft "clanging" sounds and leaving shallow white marks on her sword.

She raised her head again and looked at Fern, who had just landed.

"Not bad."

In the distance, Lowell crossed his arms and nodded.

"Fern has really improved."

His tone carried a hint of pride, as if his own child had achieved something great.

"That sudden attack just now, I thought it was going to be over and I was going to have to intervene."

Frieren stood beside him, also watching the battle.

"How could that be? The Sword Demons are indeed much stronger Fern, but not by that much."

"Hmm..." Lowell stroked his chin, looking somewhat troubled. "I can't feel it. Tsk, the difference in strength is too great."

"What did Shalltear say again...? Oh right, 'My strength is measured in meters.' I really can't feel the difference of a few millimeters between centimeters."

He shrugged.

"It seems Fern has indeed grown quite a bit stronger. He can now hold his own against Demons of this level."

Frieren glanced at him, her emerald eyes clearly saying, "Here we go again."

"(ˉ▽￣~) Tch~"

She pursed her lips.

"He's bragging again."

"To be honest," Lowell puffed out his chest, speaking with conviction, "The 'me' who was on drugs before, though a bit arrogant, might not have been entirely untrue."

Frieren thought for a moment and nodded.

"Yes, that's true."

Her gaze returned to the battlefield, and she raised an eyebrow slightly.

"Huh."

She uttered a syllable indicating attention.

"Fern is being suppressed."

On the field.

The attack rhythm of the Sword Demons has changed.

She was no longer content with simply parrying and dodging Fern's magic. Her swordplay became increasingly concise and sharp. Every thrust, sweep, and upward strike carried a chilling efficiency, devoid of any superfluous movements.

She began to move forward.

It wasn't the steady approach of before, but a gradual, oppressive encroachment.

Fern's magical beams remained dense, but her opponent seemed to be gradually adapting to the rhythm. She could dodge more and more attacks, and had to parry fewer and fewer with her sword.

The distance between the two was slowly but firmly shortened once again.

Fern's breathing quickened slightly. Fine beads of sweat appeared on her forehead, sliding down her fair cheeks. She kept changing position, trying to create distance, but the Sword Demons was ever-present.

Finally--

"Clang!"

A remarkably crisp popping sound!

With a single sword strike, the Sword Demons dispersed several incoming beams of light. She pushed off with her feet, unleashing her speed once more! This time, she no longer charged in a straight line. Instead, her figure traced a subtle arc, instantly cutting into the extremely brief opening on Fern's side, created by his continuous spellcasting.

The sword flashed like cold lightning, aiming straight for Fern's right shoulder!

Fern's pupils contracted sharply.

From this angle, there's no time to fully construct Defensive Magic, and retreating is also too late.

She suddenly swung her staff to her side.

"Clang--!"

The sword tip pierced the middle of the staff!

A tremendous force struck. Fern let out a muffled groan, his hand went numb, and he almost dropped his staff. He was pulled backward by the force, leaving two shallow furrows in the ground beneath his feet.

The Sword Demons, pressing its advantage, stepped forward and unleashed a second sword strike, aiming for Fern's chest, which was wide open due to his loss of balance!

This sword strike was faster and heavier.

Fern gritted his teeth, barely managing to lift his numb arm. A hasty, weak purple light flickered at the tip of his staff, attempting to construct a final, fragile barrier—

"Okay, that's enough."

A calm voice sounded from the side.

At the same time, a very faint sound, like the plucking of a musical string, also rang out—

"Buzz."

The sword that the Sword Demons had brought down suddenly froze in mid-air. She was as if she had been nailed down by an invisible nail, frozen in the posture of charging forward and swinging her sword.

Only those calm eyes could still move. Within them was a clear reflection of astonishment, and a rapidly expanding, chilling fear.

She moved her eyes extremely slowly and with extraordinary difficulty.

Look in the direction from which the sound came.

Lowell had somehow positioned himself half a step in front of Fern. He still had his arms crossed, his expression unchanged, and he simply raised one hand casually.

His five fingers were slightly spread, pointing in her direction.

In the air in front of his fingertips, countless extremely fine, almost completely transparent threads flashed by. The other ends of those threads were densely wrapped around her wrists, elbows, shoulders, knees, ankles... and even every joint in her body that exerted force.

It digs deeply into clothing, even into the skin.

"Tsk, this is the first time I've used this on a woman. It feels weird, kind of like bondage play... cough cough, what am I thinking? Anyway, my Sword Demons, I'm now activating my surrender skill."

Lowell cleared his throat, put on a "serious" expression, and suddenly his voice became refined and drawn out:

"General--!"

"We have been fighting for many days, and I know that your army is disciplined and your soldiers are brave and willing to fight, which is admirable. However, our army has now surrounded the city, with no reinforcements from outside and a shortage of food and supplies inside. The lives of the people in the city and thousands of soldiers are all in your hands."

If the general is willing to open the city gates, I have three conditions to agree to, in order to uphold the general's noble character:

Firstly, it can be said that we "surrender to the Han Dynasty but not to Cao Cao." We are only here to uphold the greater good and protect your reputation and integrity, without harming it in the slightest.

Secondly, he vowed to "treat his two sisters-in-law with courtesy," and to treat all the general's family members, old friends, and trusted subordinates with respect, providing them with comprehensive protection and ensuring that they would never suffer any harm.

Thirdly, we pledged that "if we know where Liu Bei is, we will leave regardless of how far away he may be," a promise witnessed by heaven and earth. If you receive news of your former lord, we will certainly see him off with courtesy and will not obstruct you in any way.

Furthermore, the lives of all soldiers will be spared, officers will retain their original ranks, and soldiers will decide for themselves whether to stay or leave. General, you are a hero of our time, why cause endless suffering and achieve only empty bones? I now offer you a path that embodies loyalty, righteousness, and compassion. I urge you, General, to consider this carefully for the sake of your troops.

Fern: "... Lord Lowell is saying things that are hard to understand again."